


Won't You Please Come Get Your Baby

by AstriferousSprite



Category: The Halcyon (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Cats, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Married Life, Post-Canon, Post-War, i mean as married as you can be when you're two guys in 1945 but you know, look what i'm trying to say is: this is gonna be some schmoopy stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:29:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstriferousSprite/pseuds/AstriferousSprite
Summary: Half a year after the war ends, an unexpected new presence makes its way into Toby and Adil's life.Or: the one where they become cat dads.
Relationships: Toby Hamilton/Adil Joshi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8
Collections: Halcyon winter holidays 2020





	Won't You Please Come Get Your Baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GayDiesaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayDiesaster/gifts).



> This was written for the Halcyon winter fic exchange, with a request for Adoby fluff preferably in the canon timeline, and can I just say, it was a delight to write this! I hope you guys enjoy this silly little piece of indulgent fluff, and I hope Rae forgives me for giving these two a cat instead of a dog, but I started this before we had that discussion, and, well...  
> Sidenote: The historical accuracy of this might be spotty, but you know what? We're not here for the intricacies of purchasing furniture, we're here for domesticity, so it is what it is.  
> Title taken from "Maybe" from Annie.

It’s a typical weeknight.

Adil hums as he makes the trek back home in the cold December air after another long shift. Business is healthy, even on a Tuesday night; it seems everyone could use a drink after the war, none more so than the students here, even though half of them probably haven’t ever seen any action.

It’s been nearly half a year since he and Toby moved back to Oxford, almost immediately as soon as the war ended. Toby was itching to get back to his studies, but he didn’t want to live life without his lover by his side, and Adil had readily agreed. Leaving the Halcyon was difficult, considering how much of his life was centered around the hotel, but the little pub he opened in town (with hardly any help, despite Toby’s insistence on just a small loan) has become popular enough, especially once the term started and the university became alive again. It’s not as glamorous as the Halcyon, but Adil rather likes the laid-back atmosphere he’s curated, and the drink menu is varied and fancy enough that it’s a bit classier than the average fare.

As he walks, he’s already wrapped up in his thoughts, even this late at night, of new cocktail ideas and the light in the back that keeps flickering and probably needs replacing, that he doesn’t seem to notice that he’s being followed until his stalker speaks.

“Mrow?”

Adil stops, whipping his head behind him—and comes face-first with, well, nothing. But at his feet, he can see the creature trailing him: a large black cat, eyes wide as he looks up at him.

“Hello?” he says, bending down. The creature’s eyes widen even further, and he slinks back. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.” At eye level, Adil can see that the majority of his bulk is just long, matted fur; his face is heartbreakingly gaunt. “Oh, do you want something to eat?”

The creature meows again.

“Let me see if I have something.” Digging through his satchel, Adil manages to find half of a sandwich; it was his intended dinner until Rocío came through with enough for family meal that he simply packed it up for later. Roast turkey on rye isn't the most elaborate meal, but he supposes it’ll do for his little guest.

He holds out the sandwich. “There you are,” he whispers. The cat comes closer, sniffs at the sandwich, and promptly grabs it with its mouth. It falls to the floor, and he eagerly begins chewing at it with little purrs.

Adil’s heart instantly warms. “There we go,” he whispers, reaching out a hand to scratch him behind the ears; however, he pulls back at a single touch, ears flattening against his head. “Oh, sorry.” Guess they aren't quite at that stage of the relationship.

The cold wind nipping at his exposed cheeks reminds him that he still has to get going, at least to make his presence known before Toby completely exhausts himself on his next term paper and promptly crashes for the night. With a last nod at his new furry acquaintance, Adil picks up his belongings and continues the trek back home.

The next day, he forgets his dinner at home.

Adil doesn’t notice at first; he was so caught up in crunching numbers and calculating costs that he lost track of time and ended up hurrying off to the pub. He doesn’t even realize he forgot everything until it’s four o’clock and he’s sighing in frustration while digging through his locker. Thankfully, the kitchen always has enough to spare, but it’s still rather annoying to get food all ready at home and then neglect to bring it with him to work.

By five-thirty, the first few customers are trickling in, and Adil is at the bar as usual, ready to greet them and get them settled. Nothing much has changed from last night, save for the lower stock of whiskey (he’ll need to order some more tomorrow) and the exotic syrups and tonics, freshly steeped just last night; he hopes he’ll get some mileage out of them.

The bell rings with the arrival of another customer. When Adil looks up, he's a bit taken aback as Toby runs in, at least two hours earlier than usual.

“Adil!” he says, a bit out of breath as he runs up to the bar, and then tacks on a hasty “er, good evening” as his face scrunches up in the most adorable way.

“Toby,” he says, trying to remain pleasantly neutral as he passes the bar rag over the counter (completely needlessly; it's early enough in the day to still be completely spotless). “What can I get for you?”

“Actually, I have something for you.” He slides a small container across the counter; it smells faintly of fish. “You left your dinner at home.”

Their fingers briefly brush against each other as Adil takes the container from him. He can almost imagine the alternative universe in his mind of a loving spouse handing off his lunch with a kiss, but until the law changes or his crew proves particularly trustworthy, Toby will just have to keep playing the part of the concerned flatmate. “Thank you,” he says, wondering how much his face betrays his true feelings on the matter. “It must have slipped my mind.”

“No worries,” says Toby, settling himself down onto one of the barstools. “Well, might as well get something while I’m here, no?” He leans his head on his hand, humming contently. “Surprise me.”

Adil grins, reaching for the hibiscus tonic. “With pleasure.”

Later that night, he’s walking home again when he hears another soft mew.

“Hello again,” he whispers, turning around and facing his furry companion from last night, still looking up at him. “I’ve got something for you.” The cat’s tail swishes high in the air as Adil opens the container and tips out half a salmon filet.

Before moving in together, both he and Toby were vehemently allergic to the kitchen, but necessity forced them to pick up a few basic skills, and sheer enjoyment eventually led to them perfecting the craft. Toby really outdid himself last night; while poached salmon with steamed rice and sautéed vegetables may have not been much to write home about, it was still delicious and kept pretty well. And if nothing else, the cat seems to enjoy it.

“Good night,” he says as he turns back to head home, his heart warm despite the chill of the night.

Over the next several days, Adil and the cat slowly start bonding.

He doesn’t expect it to be as simple as giving him leftover food with a nod, but between his dinner and leftover tapas from the kitchen, it must be more than the poor creature is used to. Eventually, he even lets Adil pet him on his little head, and Adil’s heart practically melts when he scratches him behind the ears for the first time and gets a soft purr in response.

One week after they first met, it’s a damp night and Adil’s dropping off the latest meal—homemade lamb korma. He doesn’t know if heavily spiced food is as good for cats as it is for humans, but he’s damn proud of being able to follow his mother’s recipe, and he only swore a little when the oil splattered as he fried up the spices. The cat—he really needs a name—purrs happily as he scarfs up the curry, his tail held up high.

“There we are,” he says, tickling him behind the ears as the last of the lamb disappears. “Good boy. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turns to leave, wrapping his mackintosh tighter around himself as he trudges through the snow.

However, he still has the impression of being followed, and when he turns around, he sees the cat walking right behind him.

“Mrr?”

“I have to go home,” he says. The cat, however, doesn’t take the message, and as soon as Adil takes another step forward, he matches him in stride with little chirps. Another step, and he’s right beside him.

By the time he’s reached the flat fifteen minutes later, he’s still wrapped around his leg.

“Darling?” he calls out as he opens the door. Toby’s curled up on the loveseat with a copy of _A Room with a View_. As soon as he sees his husband, though, his face lights up, and he promptly closes the book and makes his way towards Adil.

“Good evening,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to his lips—before an inquisitive mew makes him pull back and look at the cat, currently looking up at him with large green eyes. In the warm light of the flat, Adil notices he’s not a pure black cat; there are patches of what must be white, thoroughly obscured by grime.

Adil shrugs helplessly. “He followed me,” he says, hoping it’s enough of an explanation.

Toby’s eyes narrow, and he bends down with an outstretched hand. The cat takes a few steps forward, sniffing his fingers, before pressing his head against it. He immediately looks up, his eyes wide and filled with affection; Adil's only ever seen them reserved for himself and at his nephew's christening last month.

And in that instant, they both reach the same conclusion:

“We’re keeping him.”

It's nearing eleven at night, but neither Toby nor Adil are ready to go to bed, not when there are still a few things left to take care of with their little Oscar.

“ _Oscar?_ ” says Toby, wrinkling his nose as he checks the bathwater. “You're naming our cat Oscar? That’s a name for people, not animals.”

“I thought it would be fitting,” says Adil. Oscar, for his part, is happily curled up in his arms.

Toby's gaze softens. “I'm kidding,” he says, reaching out to pet Oscar. “It’s poetic, I love it.” He recoils. “Good _God_ , Oscar, you need a bath!”

“Mrah.”

Adil glances at the nearly clear bathwater. “Are you sure this will be enough?”

“I think?” says Toby. “I mean, cats usually just clean themselves, so I don't think they need too much soap.”

“Yes, but he's a _very_ stinky cat.”

Toby pouts. “Don't call him that!”

“Stinky little boy,” he says, swinging him around.

Toby continues his indignant sniffles. “You’re so cruel,” he says, sticking his hand in the bathwater. “Alright, it seems good enough. Let’s get this over with.”

Adil nods, moving closer to the bath. “You ready, Oscar?” he asks, and gets a dainty mew in response. He ruffles his head one last time before lowering him down to the water.

However, the instant Oscar’s paw touches the surface he yelps, bolting from Adil’s arms and out the door.

The _open_ door.

They’re both idiots.

Adil winces, still feeling the phantom pain of Oscar’s claws digging into his arms. “I can’t believe we forgot to close the door.”

“I didn’t think he’d…” Toby sighs, staring at the open doorway. “Where on _earth_ is he?”

The flat is small enough that there aren’t many places he could have escaped to, but it still takes the two of them a few minutes before they find him curled up under the loveseat. When he sees them, he lets out a heartbroken yowl.

Toby drops to his knees. “We’ve betrayed him,” he says, throwing his head back. “Absolutely cocked it up. Oh, Oscar, how will we ever regain your confidence?”

Adil shuts the refrigerator door, holding out a little bit of chicken. “Like this,” he says, and then bends down. “Here, Oscar. Come here, boy.”

“Maow!”

“Come on,” he says, gently clicking his tongue. “It’s okay.”

Oscar continues to whine, but he crawls out from underneath the couch, sniffing curiously at Adil’s hand before he moves it away.

“Really?” Toby stands up, crossing his arms. “That’s all it took?”

“As long as we close the door this time, yes.”

Oscar follows them back to the bathroom, if only because of the tempting snack Adil’s holding. This time, they remember to shut the door, and Adil holds him firmly in the water as Toby scrubs him down, even if his heart breaks a little at his sad wails.

About thirty minutes later, the grime is all gone from Oscar’s fur, and he’s revealed to have a magnificent piebald coat, his muzzle and belly a brilliant white. The cat himself is less than pleased, even while wrapped up in a warm towel and finally feasting on the promised chicken Adil tempted him with.

Toby reaches out and scratches him on his wet little head. “What a handsome little boy,” he coos.

“Yes,” says Adil, “just as long as we never have to do this ever again.”

“Adil?”

“Hm?”

Toby walks up to him, puzzled as he holds up two different products. “Dried or tinned food?”

Adil cocks his head as he considers the two options. Behind them, the rest of the shoppers pass by them, unaware of their conundrum in the pet food section. It might as well just be a normal Thursday morning. “I don’t know,” he says, “but I would have to suggest tinned? It’s probably more similar to their natural diet.” He takes the tin of food from Toby, rotating it around and getting a good look at the label. “Then again, I suppose pellet food would be the more economical option.”

Toby huffs. “Right, but… I don’t even know if I should consider the price.” He sets the bag of dry food back in the basket. “It’s just… Even if it’s a few pounds more, he deserves the best, right?”

“Right.”

“He deserves to know he’s loved.” He shakes his head. “God help me, I’m getting sentimental over cat food.”

“It’s really no worry,” says Adil. More than anything, he understands Toby’s need to do right by Oscar; both he and Freddie have been fighting for years to break the cycle imposed by their father, and seeing as actual children aren’t really an option for him, the best he can do is be the most loving uncle and cat owner that he can be. Besides, Adil can’t say he doesn’t share the sentiment of wanting to be a doting father, whatever form that may take. And if that means getting Oscar the best food they can reasonably afford, well, so be it.

“Perhaps we could get him both.” He sets the tin of food back in the basket. “See what he prefers.”

Toby grins. “I like that idea,” he says. “And a variety of flavors, too. I wasn’t sure if I should get chicken or fish, but why choose? Let him have some variety.” He smiles. “Maybe we—”

Out of the corner of their eye, a young woman pops into the aisle.

Toby takes a step back, puts a little more plausible space between them. “Maybe he could get some cooked food on occasion.”

“He does seem to enjoy it.” The woman passes by them, eyeing up the same tins of wet food that Toby was debating earlier. “It’s how I earned his trust, actually.” He grins. “With our cooking.”

“Then we really must cook for him,” says Toby softly as they move out of the aisle. “Once a week, at least. And holidays, and his birthday.” He pauses. “I don’t even know his birthday. Or how old he is.”

“I suppose you’ll find out at the veterinarian’s tomorrow.” Adil glances back at the list. “Ok. We have food, we have a litter box… we just need to order some furniture—”

“And food dishes, and find toys—Do they even sell toys for cats here?”

The little shop does, in fact, have a few, and within the hour Toby and Adil are back home with their purchases and awaiting their shipment within the week. Adil’s already making mental notes on how to incorporate the new chores that await them into their list of duties when he opens the door—

—and Oscar promptly trots over with a heartbreaking meow.

“Well, hello.” Adil tries to maneuver out of his way, but the cat presses himself firmly against his leg as he walks, wrapping his fluffy tail around his calf as he continues to wail.

Toby bends down. “It’s only been an hour,” he coos, before grunting in surprise as Oscar leaps into his arms and settles his little head on his shoulder. He goes quiet, wide eyes looking over at Oscar, and Adil can almost tell what he’s thinking: _This little cat trusts me. This helpless, vulnerable creature is trusting me with his life. How could anyone let him down?_

He sinks to his knees and buries his face in the ruff of Oscar’s neck, pressing a soft kiss to it as he continues to cradle him.

Adil can’t help but smile fondly. “You alright there, Toby?”

“I just need a moment,” he mutters into Oscar’s fur.

Adil rests a hand on his shoulder, his heart full as he looks at his little family. “I’ll get lunch warmed up,” he says, pressing a kiss to his cheek and patting Oscar’s head before retiring to the little kitchen alcove with their groceries. He still has a few hours before he has to go, and by God, he’s going to spend them wisely.

Rocío is already hard at work in the kitchen when Adil arrives at the bar that afternoon.

“Good afternoon, Chef.”

“Afternoon, Adil,” she says, pulling a sheet tray from the oven; the air is filled with the smell of roasted nuts. “Be a dear and pass me that bowl?”

He hums, sliding over the steel bowl resting on the counter in her direction. “What do you have there?”

“Spiced toasted almonds.” Rocío gives the tray a good shake before pouring them in. “Thought it would be nice to have some nuts on the menu, something a little more special than the packet peanuts they have everywhere else.”

“I like the way you think, Rocío.” He steps forward and wafts the scent of the almonds towards him; he can detect paprika and cumin among the sweet notes. “We could put it out as a special tonight before we commit, see if people like it.”

She sighs. “Yes, but there’s the problem.” She tucks her side towels back into her apron, already lightly dusted with red powder. “I’m afraid I used too much seasoning.”

Adil raises an eyebrow, before popping one in his mouth. Instantly, a harmony of sweet and spicy erupts across his tongue; she’s really outdone herself this time.

He hums in delight. “It’s perfect.”

She huffs. “I knew it,” she says. “Too spicy.”

“I just said it was perfect.”

“Yes, by your standards,” she says, jamming a finger at him. “But you have to understand, the English… their tastes are not as, eh…” She snaps her fingers. “Cómo se dice… _refined,_ as yours.”

He grins. “Well, they’ll just have to tolerate a little more than they’re comfortable with, no?” Rocío snorts, and Adil once again couldn’t feel any better about his choice of business partner.

The two had met back in the Paddington shelter; while the bombs were exploding overhead, they were rapidly bonding over their shared immigrant experiences, even if Córdoba and Delhi were miles apart. A few years later, when he was still struggling with a solid concept for his bar, Adil remembered Señora Molina’s complaints about the lack of classy bar food in London and how the tapas bars back home were infinitely better than the grotty pubs around here, and he gave her a call; the rest was history.

“You should decorate this place.” Rocío marches over to the dish sink with the sheet tray; it clatters as she unceremoniously drops it into the soapy water. “The walls are so bare. Get some art on them.”

“And where exactly am I supposed to find tasteful art for a bar, of all places?”

“Local artists,” she says, just as he starts taking inventory on the spice rack. “They can hang up their art for free and have it for sale, like a gallery with more alcohol.” Adil can’t see her, but he can hear the metallic schlick of her knife being honed. “It’s what Antonio is doing to earn a living. He actually told me to pass it on to you, he thinks it will help a lot.”

It’s a good thing he’s placing the order soon; they’re looking good on most seasonings, but the chef goes through paprika like it’s salt and they’re already down to the last box. “I still can’t believe you’re taking advice from your ex-husband.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” she says. Her knife thuds against the cutting board, and he can smell onions. “He’s a perfectly decent man when I’m not married to him.”

He turns around. “Last month you were telling me he cheated on you with a baroness.”

“No, that was the excuse we gave.” She waves her knife in his direction. “Adil, you must know people sometimes tell the silliest stories to avoid saying the truth.” Her eyes narrow. “…You have hair on your shirt.”

“Huh?” He looks down, and sure enough, there’s a long black hair right on the front; he neatly flicks it off as a blush rises to his face. “Oh, er, damn, that’s from my c… my flatmate’s cat.”

“The researcher?” She continues her chopping; Adil wipes away a few stray tears as the onion fumes hit him hard. “He has a cat now?”

“Yes, and he’s quite taken to laying in our laundry—my laundry,” he says, waving his hands. A likely story—he and Toby won’t need to do the washing for another few days.

Rocío just quirks up a dark eyebrow; he can almost see the cogs in her head turning. “Ah,” she says. “Well, if you ever need help dealing with your cat, just let me know.”

“He’s not my cat.”

She smiles. “Of course not,” she says, bending back over the onions she was dicing. “Now get back to work, Adil.”

He gives her a lazy salute as he disappears into the walk-in, afraid to ask how much she knows. “Yes, Chef.”

“Oscar, sit!” 

Oscar looks up at Toby’s hand as he holds it above his head, tail twitching. He raises an inquisitive paw, and he just laughs and shakes his head. “No, Oscar, _sit._ ” He moves his hand back ever so slightly, but Oscar just continues to tilt his head.

Adil looks up from the book of hors d’oeuvres he’s flipping through. “Any luck?”

“It’s not as easy as I thought it would be,” says Toby. “Come on, Oscar. Sit!” He moves his hand back once more, and the cat finally cooperates, sitting down on his haunches.

Toby breathes a sigh of relief. “Good _boy,_ Oscar!” he says, finally opening his hand to reveal the treat waiting for him. Oscar immediately pounces, delicately grabbing the little morsel of chicken and crunching it down. “Right, that’s enough for the morning, I think.”

“It’s half-past twelve,” says Adil, bookmarking a page full of different preparations of stuffed beets—not necessarily because they sound appetizing, but because he thinks Rocío will be able to work with them somehow. It is winter, after all, and root vegetables are all the seasonal rage. “It’s definitely more than enough for the morning.”

“Whatever,” says Toby, reaching out to scratch Oscar behind his ears. Oscar leans into the touch, purring happily as Toby dotes over him, cooing words of praise and dropping little kisses on his head. In another life, he really would have made a great father, thinks Adil; until then, they’ll make do with their sweet cat.

With a soft mew, Oscar rolls onto his back, exposing his fluffy belly and eyeing Toby expectantly.

“Oh, you want rubs?” says Toby, eagerly leaning forward—

—and then yelping and pulling back as sweet Oscar reaches forward and swipes at his arm.

“ _Oscar!_ ” he shouts, cradling his left wrist with a look of utter betrayal written all over his face. “Naughty boy!”

“What’s wrong?” says Adil, bookmarking the page he was on (compound butters, something Rocío would definitely be able to work with) and walking over to where his husband was curled up on the floor with a pout.

“He attacked me.” Oscar, for his part, just continues to lounge around on his back, still looking as innocuous as can be. “I was just trying to give him a belly rub, I don’t understand.” Adil wraps an arm around his shoulder. “Wellington used to love belly rubs.”

“You don’t suppose he’s hurt, do you?”

“Well, I’ll find out at the vet’s today, but it doesn’t look like it.” He sighs again. “I really don’t know.”

“Perhaps cats are just stranger than we expected,” says Adil. “He is literally a different breed of animal than Wellington.”

“Maybe,” says Toby softly, and then turns to Adil with a soft smile, limply holding out his wrist; from up close, it doesn’t look that bad—only a few light scratches dotting the surface. “Kiss it better?”

Adil rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but grin. “You baby,” he says, before tenderly cradling Toby’s hand in his and pressing a light kiss to each scratch. “Better?”

Toby shifts his hand to cup his face. “Much better,” he whispers, leaning in to plant a proper kiss on his lips.

When they part, Adil glances back at their mischievous little cat, who has since shifted to grooming his belly. “Should we really be doing this in front of him?”

Toby glances between the two of them, before shrugging. “I don’t think he’ll mind too much,” he says, kissing him again before standing up, holding out a hand to help Adil to his feet. “Well, we really should be off, I’m afraid.”

“Good luck,” says Adil as Toby scoops up Oscar into his arms, who jumps in with no hesitation. “Hope all goes well.”

“We’ll try our best.” Toby smiles as he heads out the door. “Have a good day at work, dear.”

Adil wakes up with a headache Saturday morning.

He figures it’s only fair; last night he'd worked until closing when his regular Friday night bartender had called in sick with influenza, and it was nearly 3 in the morning by the time he finally got home. It's probably just a consequence of sleep deprivation.

But when he reaches out to rub his forehead, he gets a handful of fur and a soft “mrrr?” instead.

He blinks awake, coming face-to-face with Oscar, huddled right next to his head.

“Oh, hello,” he mumbles into Oscar’s side, who just continues to rest, his stomach gently rising and falling.

“Been there all morning.” Adil’s eyes turn to where Toby’s resting beside him, a soft smile playing at his lips. “Guess it must be comfortable.”

Adil relaxes back against the pillow. Saturday may not be an off day for him, but at least it’s the weekend, meaning he and Toby get to laze around in bed together for a bit. “And good morning to you too.” Toby snorts. “Oh, so how did everything go at the vet yesterday? I’m sorry I couldn’t be back last night, but work—”

“Don’t worry about it,” says Toby, scooting in closer. “Work happens, it’s fine.” He glances back at their cat, still napping on Adil’s head. “But, er, Oscar’s fine. About a year old, according to the vet, and we’ll need to, you know, get immunizations in, and make sure she eats on time because God knows she’s far too underweight right now—”

“Sorry, what was that?”

“What, her being underweight?”

“No, you just—” Adil rubs his eyes. “You just did it again. _Her._ ” 

“Ah.” Toby’s mouth hangs open for a few moments, before he remembers to speak again. “Right, so that’s the other thing.” He sighs.

“Oscar’s a girl.”

Adil blinks again.

Honestly, he doesn’t understand why this is coming as such a surprise to him. He just assumed from the start that the cat following him was male, but he never really did properly check—and really, it’s a fifty-fifty chance either way. But it’s still enough to catch him off guard.

“Alright then,” he says, turning back to look at their cat, who’s still firmly curled up in his—in _her_ spot near Adil.

“I know, I was just as shocked.” Toby huffs. “And right after we ordered the monogrammed food dishes—”

“Who’s to say we have to change her name?”

“Because good and proper ladies don’t go around being named Oscar?”

“Toby,” says Adil, “no one ever accused our cat of being a proper lady.”

Toby’s silent for a moment.

“I suppose it is rather ironic,” he says. “Poetic, even.”

Adil laughs. “There we go,” he says. Oscar finally stands up, stretching her legs before settling in a sunbeam at the foot of their bed.

“Still, I’m not sure what we’re to explain to mother when she finds out that we’ve got a she-cat named Oscar.”

“I suppose that’s for you to find out next week,” says Adil.

“For the both of us, you mean.”

Adil runs a hand across his forehead again; the pressure’s been relieved now that Oscar’s off, certainly, but he did just barely get six hours of sleep and his body is more than willing to remind him of that pleasant fact. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says. “I won’t be able to make it down to London with you.”

“Why not?”

“Why—” Adil just sighs. “Unless you have some sort of explanation for why you’ve decided to have your flatmate accompany you back home for Christmas?”

“That’s their problem,” he says. “Besides, you brought me home for Diwali.” He smiles lazily up at him. “I’m just returning the favor.”

It’s all so ridiculously domestic, Adil supposes, but it does set his heart aflutter. Even after five years of being together, there’s always been the undercurrent of their differing stations in life that makes the practicality of even being seen together a rather difficult affair—but somehow, they’ve managed to stay optimistic, and now here he is, being casually invited as Toby’s plus one as if there weren’t a care in the world. Instead of voicing all this sentimentality so early in the morning, however, he settles for scooting in closer and reaching for his hand.

The two lay there in the soft morning light, soaking in each other’s presence as the birds twitter outside their window.

With a soft meow, Oscar crawls back up in between their arms, her fluffy head tickling Adil’s chin as she continues to chirp.

Adil sighs. “I suppose it’s breakfast time,” he says, mournfully disentangling himself from Toby as he sits up and rubs the last of the sleepiness from his eyes. Oscar meows her agreement.

“Unfortunately,” says Toby, still stubbornly laying down as Adil begins to shuffle through their wardrobe. “A little for her, a little for us?”

Adil smiles as he picks his shirt, their cat curling herself around his legs. “Something like that.”

When Adil gets out of the bath that night after work, he’s greeted with the sight of Toby lying back on their bed.

“Good evening,” he purrs, settling himself against the pillows. “I was wondering when you’d show up.” His eyes rake over Adil’s body as he bites his lip, and Adil notices immediately that he’s wearing his paisley dressing gown.

He’s wearing _only_ his dressing gown.

Adil closes his eyes, swallowing whatever impulsive remark he was about to make as he steps into the room, adjusting the towel lazily slung over his waist. “Work held me up, I’m afraid,” he says. “Chef Molina practically had to shove me out the door once the rush was over.”

In reality, he’d been jostled out by her once it hit half-past ten. “You can’t survive two late nights in a row,” she cooed, hand firm on his shoulder as she pulled him back towards the break room. “It’s unsustainable. Get some rest, Adil.”

“Rocío, please, it’s fine—”

“No, no, really.” She smiled, patting his shoulder. “We can take it from here. Go home.” Her eyes narrowed mischievously, and she winked at him. “Your flatmate will be happy to see you.” He hardly had time to process the implication of her words before he was being shepherded out the door.

Back in the present, Toby snorts. “How kind of her,” he says, his eyes still fixated on Adil’s bare chest. “Now, are you going to come over, or do I have to get you into bed myself?”

No sooner have the words left his mouth than the towel is hitting the floor and Adil is tackling Toby against the bed, kissing him hungrily as if it were their first month together all over again.

Early on in their relationship, the need for physicality was intense, with the limited time offered to them mostly spent on getting lost in each other’s bodies. Since then, that burning desire has cooled down somewhat, but certainly not enough to diminish the enjoyment. And with the past days spent more on situating Oscar to her new home, they forgot to make time for each other; it’s embarrassing, but Adil’s already aching for him and it hasn’t even been a week.

Adil makes quick work of Toby’s little dressing gown and flings it aside as they continue to trade passionate kisses, and Toby soon rolls over him, sliding a leg between his thighs as he kisses his way across his neck.

Oscar meows outside the door, and Toby frowns for a split second against Adil’s collar before shaking his head and resuming his trail downward, pressing his lips against the span of his chest, and Adil sighs, threading his hand into Toby’s wavy hair as he dips down and draws closer and closer to his—

“ _Mraaaaaah_ _._ ”

Toby sits up. “For God’s sake!” he yells, his face flushed as he turns to the door. Adil just lies there, frustrated in more ways than one as Oscar continues to loudly wail outside. There’s a moment’s pause, and then he can hear her scratching at the door.

“Damn it.”

Toby huffs and flops down face-first. “Stupid cat,” he mutters into the pillows. “Just as things are getting started…”

“Shall we call it a night, then?” says Adil, knowing full well he has no desire to follow through with his words.

“Absolutely not.” Toby props himself up on his arms and looks at him. “I don’t want to stop, but either we have to put up with—” As if on cue, Oscar lets out another heartbreaking wail. “— _that,_ or…” His words trail off, and his blush grows even deeper.

“…or we have to let her in.”

Toby closes his eyes, pursing his lips as he seems to grapple with the notion of having to allow a little voyeurism into their sex life. “Alright,” he says, before standing up and pressing one of the pillows against his crotch.

Adil snorts. “She’s going to see everything pretty soon, darling.”

“That’s between you and me,” he says as he walks up to the door and opens it. Instantly, Oscar comes running in, pressing her body around Toby’s legs with a long stream of meowing. “You behave now, understand?” She chirps, before curling up at the foot of their bed, resting her little head upon her paws.

Adil exhales, watching her chest rise and fall. “Well, then,” he says. “Shall we pick up where we left off?”

Toby glances one last time at Oscar before shrugging, tossing the pillow back towards the bed. “Let’s,” he says, jumping back to bed and pulling the covers over them; with one last grin he disappears beneath the sheets, and they put the cat out of mind very quickly indeed.

“And that should be the last of the sweet paprika.”

“Many thanks,” says Rocío as she shelves the numerous boxes, making sure to shift the half-empty box right in front of it. “I’ll definitely be using more of this with our new menu.”

“Even more than usual?” says Adil, earning a snort from his chef. “I wouldn’t think almonds use up that much paprika.”

“You’d be surprised, Adil,” she fires back. “Oh, and, eh, I got your suggestion regarding adding beets…”

“And?”

She shrugs. “Well, I don’t think we are quite at the level to serve stuffed beets, but perhaps if we _deconstructed_ it…” She pulls out a worn notebook from her breast pocket and idly begins to scribble upon it. “Mmm, spread the filling on some toasted bread with slices of roast beet and maybe some watercress on top… yes, this will make an _excellent_ montadito.”

“You and your montaditos,” he says with a laugh. “Is there anything you won’t put on some bread and call it a day?”

“You wanted Andalus to be an authentic tapas bar, Adil. I’m just doing as I’m told.” She hums, putting away her notebook. “Oh, hope you have a safe trip to London.”

“I hope it won’t be that bad without me.”

“Well, you’re leaving with all the students, so it should be nice and slow.” Rocío unsheathes her knife and presses a finger against it, frowning. “ _Ay_ , I need to sharpen this already.”

“Good.” He takes one last gander at the spice rack while she runs to fetch a whetstone. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back before the term starts.”

“That long, huh?” She leans against the workbench. “I thought you didn’t celebrate Christmas.” 

“Well, no, but…”

She smiles, leaning in unnecessarily close; this early in the day, it’s just the two of them in the bar. “But _he_ celebrates it, no?”

Adil blinks. “Whatever do you mean?” he asks, trying to keep his expression neutral even as his heart begins to hammer against his chest.

“Adil, I’ve been married to a homosexual for nearly twenty years,” she says, before grabbing her knife and casually dragging it over the stone. “I know what to look for.” She smiles. “Your flatmate, Adil.”

The jumble of information comes in all at once that he hardly knows which point to address first. “Wait, _Antonio_ is—”

She continues to work her knife. “Why do you think we’re still friends after divorce?”

“But what of the baroness?”

“I told you, just an excuse.” She laughs to herself. “And now she’s my flatmate.”

_…oh._

Blinking, Adil takes a good look at his business partner. “…one more thing we have in common, then?”

The corner of her mouth twitches up into a smile. “Perhaps,” she says. Adil snorts, and she soon joins him as they escalate into a fit of laughter over the absurdity of it all; it’s a beautiful afternoon, and his business partner has been a lesbian this whole time.

“Dear me,” he says, shaking his head, “I can’t believe I never noticed.”

“Oh, I’ve known for a while.”

“How long?”

“Ever since you said you were moving to Oxford with your friend.” That sends them both into another fit of giggles. “You sounded _exactly_ like Antonio!”

The door clatters open, and both of them fall silent as the opening bartender walks in, greeting them both with a lazy “Afternoon, sir. Chef.”

“You know,” says Rocío, flipping the stone over to work her knife over a finer grit, “I should probably make some more lavender syrup this week. The _Gin de Provence_ is selling quite well.”

Adil smiles, not missing the double meaning. “I’m glad to hear it,” he says, slinging his satchel back over his shoulder. “It’s my favorite creation.”

She winks at him. “Go on, then,” she says, before her smile turns soft. “And tell your lover I say hi.”

When Adil makes it back home, Toby’s still in the middle of packing.

“Hello, my dear,” he says, dropping a kiss onto Toby’s head as he continues to cram items into his suitcase. “That’s a lot of books for one trip.”

“Well, I couldn’t decide, and we’ll be gone for a month, so I just packed them all,” he says. Beside him, Oscar chirps at seeing Adil, and she promptly trots over to him, her fluffy tail held high.

“Well, hello to you too,” he coos, bending down to scratch her behind her ears. As the cat leans into his touch, however, he can’t help but notice a splash of black at her collar, and he cocks his head to take a better look.

“Is that my old bowtie?”

Toby smiles, throwing one last shirt in before attempting to latch the suitcase closed. “It was just sitting in our drawer doing nothing,” he says, grunting as the lid strains under the weight of items beneath it. “So—well—I figured we should put it to good use—” The lid finally clicks shut. “And doesn’t she look splendid?”

“Quite dashing,” he says, straightening the old pre-tied bow. Even now, it still brings back fond memories of the Halcyon, back when he was just the head barman trying to catch Mr. Hamilton’s eye. “But if you were worried about how your mother would feel about a she-cat named Oscar…”

“ _Lady_ Oscar Ada Joshi-Hamilton,” corrects Toby. “And if she has any issues, she’ll just have to take it up with Her Ladyship.”

Adil snorts, before leaning forward so that Her Ladyship can jump onto his shoulder; he knows other pet owners invest in leads or carriers, but Oscar is mostly well-tempered enough that Adil can just trust her to stay in his arms. “Off to the station, then?”

Toby hands over Adil’s suitcase with a peck on the cheek, before grabbing his own as they make their way out.

“I’ll get the door,” he says fondly, and Adil can hear all the warmth and love he’s packed behind that one simple sentence. And with that, the three of them are off—just two “traveling companions” and the sweet little cat that adopted them.

Their little family may be a little odd, he thinks as he cradles a purring Oscar in his arms, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hope you guys enjoyed that! I know I had a lot of fun writing it when I wasn't suffering from writer's block... :P  
> Anyways, take care, and I'll see you next year!


End file.
